


Lifetime Achievement Award

by void_spells



Series: Sasha James, The Archivist [1]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: (aka jon scratches himself as a stim during meltdowns), Archivist Sasha James, Autistic Jonathan Sims, Basically the ADHDchives, But dont worry!, Canon-Typical Elias, Canon-Typical Worms (The Magnus Archives), Demiboy Martin Blackwood, Give me found family or give me death, Im sorry for what im going to do at the end of this fic, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Jonathan Sims Has ADHD, Jonathan Sims With a Cane, Martin Blackwood Has ADHD, Multi, Nonbinary Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Temporary Character Death, Things will get so much worse!, This is only part one!, Tim Stoker Has ADHD, Trans Sasha James, disabled Sasha James, sasha has marfan syndrome, tw: mentions on manipulation and gaslighting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:26:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24022063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/void_spells/pseuds/void_spells
Summary: Sasha knew the promotion was coming. Not because she was confident she would get it, but because Jon was given the offer of Head Archivist first.Archivist!Sasha AU
Relationships: Jonathan Sims & Tim Stoker, Martin Blackwood & Sasha James, Martin Blackwood & Sasha James & Jonathan Sims & Tim Stoker, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Sasha James & Jonathan Sims, Sasha James & Tim Stoker
Series: Sasha James, The Archivist [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1732813
Comments: 166
Kudos: 569





	1. Angler Fish

Sasha knew the promotion was coming. Not because she was confident she would get it, but because Jon was given the offer of Head Archivist first. She hadn’t gotten there yet when Elias called Jon into his office, but Tim had texted her immediately, and she managed to get to work not long after. None of them were even aware of Gertrudes whole “missing, presumed dead” situation, but she and Tim had made a pact not long after meeting Jon to monitor every one of his interactions with their boss as closely as possible. Elias’ general creep vibes weren’t a secret, but neither of them trusted the way the man had seemed to zero in on Jon, with his tendency to hover and speak to him like an overprotective, manipulative parent.

It took longer than either of them expected for Jon to re-emerge from Elias’ office, and Sasha had to wrangle Tim back from pacing in front of the door several times. She had a firm grip on the back of his shirt, keeping him from springing out of his seat the moment the door creaked open. Elias held it open, just barely enough for Jon to squeeze past. He met Sasha’s eyes, and she felt herself tense up. There was clear disappointment on his face, and she could have sworn there was a flash of _rage_ just underneath; then he shook his head with a sigh, and closed the door. Tim was up and by Jon’s side in an instant.

“What was that all about?” Tim stage-whispered, shooting glares at the office door. Jon glanced back as well nervously, before moving past him with a white-knuckled grip on his cane. He was silent the entire walk back to their desks, clearly fretting over whatever had transpired with Elias. As much as he tried to deny it, Jon was probably the most expressive person Sasha had ever met. It wasn’t until he finally sat down, Sasha and Tim both pulling their own chairs over to sit in front of him, did he take a deep breath.

“Gertrude is dead,” he stated bluntly. She and Tim were stunned into silence, long enough for Jon to start up again, whatever composure he had collected quickly crumbling as he began stuttering over his own fast pace. “I-I mean, Elias thinks she’s dead. Apparently she’s officially missing, but-but everyone’s pretty sure she’s, you know, dead. He didn’t—I-I don't—I mean, Elias didn’t _say_ what happened he just—”

“Jon please, _breathe_.” She interrupted. He did, a shaky inhale that he held for a moment, before letting out an even shakier exhale. She shot a look at Tim. There was no way _Jon_ was this shaken up over the probable death of an old woman he had probably met maybe— _maybe_ —once. Tim put a hand on the back of Jon’s chair; knowing better than to try to touch him.

“And do you know why exactly Elias told _you_ this? Just you? No one else?” As he spoke, Tim handed Jon a hair tie he had snatched from his desk to stop him from tugging at his own hair. It worked immediately, and Jon focused on twisting the hair tie around his fingers for a moment. He managed to steel himself before he spoke.

“Elias wanted to promote me to Head Archivist.” This, somehow, shocked Sasha more than Gertrudes apparent death. Elias wanted _Jon_ to run the Archives? The man who was constantly only a couple of minor inconveniences away from a nervous breakdown? Who didn’t know _anything_ about archiving? The concept seemed almost cruel. Especially considering how much, for some reason probably relating to whatever his obviously tragic backstory was, Jon looked up to Elias.

“Did you take the job, Jon?” She didn’t mean to sound accusatory, but she felt it may have come out that way.

“I—”

“ _Jon._ ” Tim shot her a look.

“Sasha…”

“No!” He snapped, before heaving another shaky breath. “N-no. No, I-I didn’t. I didn’t.” Suddenly Sasha felt pretty shitty. Repetition (“Palilalia”, an annoyed voice very similar to Jon’s reminded her) was Jon’s ‘I am going to have a meltdown very soon if things don’t change’ warning. He pulled harshly on the hair tie and she was worried it would snap.

“Okay,” Tim started, softly. “What happened then? When you declined the promotion?” Count on Tim to get to the meat of things. There was another sharp tug on the hair tie. Sasha winced.

“He―I said I didn’t—I said I didn't think I was qualified for the job. I wasn’t _qualified,_ and I uh, I said Sasha would be better suited for the job, more than anyone.” His voice got quieter as he spoke, and his eyes flicked briefly to Sasha’s face, before narrowing back in on the hair tie he was strangling his fingers with. She sat back, shocked. Jon was never one for making his positive feelings for people known. She knew he tolerated her, mostly Tim, and Martin just barely. (Martin who, she noted, was late.)

“Oh. Okay. So, um,” She cleared her throat. “What did Elias say about that?” The hair tie gave, then, the snap making them all flinch. She and Tim shared yet another pointed look. Jon continued to wrap the broken hair tie in loops around his fingers.

“I—he, uh—it-it’s fine, it’s fine. It’s fine.” Sasha barely suppressed a sigh. 

“Jon, it’s okay if—” Jon stumbled to his feet suddenly, cutting her off.

“It’s _fine._ ” With that, he stormed off in the direction of wherever he was planning on pretending he wasn’t having a meltdown, his cane clacking against the floor harder than usual. He disappeared around the corner, and Sasha and Tim stared at each other for a long time.

“If I kill Elias will you help me hide the evidence?” Tim asked, casually, but Sasha could see his nails digging into the armrest of his chair. She let out a long breath.

“I’m in. What's the plan?” Tim glanced around wildly, as if they weren’t the only ones in the office, and leaned in.

“I’ve got two cans of petrol stashed in my car for this _exact occasion_ —”

“Sasha.” Their heads both whipped around to the entrance to the office. Sasha was pretty sure she heard Tim’s neck crack.

“Elias!” She exclaimed, much louder than she intended. Tim put on an easy smile as if he hadn’t just been joking about murdering the man. 

“I would like to speak with you in my office.” It appeared his mood hadn’t improved since Jon declined the position. Tim opened his mouth.

“Actually, Sasha and I were having a very important conversation—”

“Now.” He turned and stalked out of sight before Sasha could get a word in. Sasha sat still, before remembering she was supposed to follow and stood awkwardly. She brushed down her skirt.

“Right. Ooh-kay. Uh, Tim, just… go check on Jon, please? Make sure he doesn't scratch himself up too much.” Tim nodded, his jaw set as he knocked his fist against his armrest.

“Yeah. I’ll see if I can find out what bullshit Elias pulled.” He stood, squared his shoulders, and pulled Sasha into a quick hug. It was firm, but he was still mindful of her back brace, as always.

“Good luck on the new job, Sash.” He pulled away with a pat to her arm, and left to find wherever Jon went to hide. Sasha watched him go, and left the office, running directly into Martin, her glasses slamming into his nose. He gave a startled yelp as the both stumbled back.

“ _Christ,_ Martin! You scared the shit out of me!” She rubbed where her glasses had pressed hard into her face, and Martin did the same to his nose.

“Sorry! Sorry, I should have been looking where I was going! I’m _so_ sorry, Sasha!” She gave a slight shake of her head, not really having the time to reassure him.

“Both our faults. Hey, Martin, you _may_ wanna make some tea, todays gonna be a _Day._ ” She hurried off, Martin’s confused noises fading quickly.

  
  


So yeah, she knew she was gonna get the promotion. Elias was a dickhead the entire time, but she still took the job. It was, after all, the one she had really been gunning for. She just expected to get it after Gertrude retired. Elias informed her that the old woman has specifically asked for Sasha to be her replacement “should the time come for such an occasion.” The only thing stopping her from coldly asking why he had offered the job to Jon, then, was the sudden lump in the back of her throat. It was fully sinking in that Gertrude was _dead_. Well, most likely dead. And now Sasha was taking over her old job.

Standing to shake Elias’ hand made her feel better, though. Sure, she was taller than most people, (save Martin) but being able to look down at her shitty boss who just hurt her friend felt nice. She may have squeezed his hand until she saw his eye twitch as well, but no one could prove it. Her leaving his office door open as she left _was_ caught on the security camera, though. She tried to suppress the peppy bounce to her step, considering the cause of her promotion. It was a bit of a struggle though. She did, after all, get to bring all her friends with her to the basement.

⸻

“So it won’t record at all?” Tim’s eyes narrowed at the computer screen as Sasha set everything up. Her patience had finally fizzled out, and she stormed from her office, laptop in hand. Jon’s desk was the closest, so it was the one she slammed said laptop a little too harshly down on. She reminded herself to apologize later when Jon startled, almost spilling the tea Martin had just handed him. She gave an, admittedly, frantic rundown of her hours of dealing with the _incredibly_ frustrating statement that refused. To actually. Record. 

“It isn’t _just_ that it won’t record,” she exclaimed, one of her hands hitting Martin in the chest with her wild gesturing. “It’s like the recording got put through a meat grinder! Or one of those things that tear up people in horror movies!”

“Wood chipper.” Jon quietly supplied. Jon had been rather quiet since he declined the Head Archivist position a week ago. They had found out, once Jon was up for talking again, that after several increasingly manipulative attempts to convince Jon to take the job, Elias had apparently snapped; saying something along the lines of, ‘If you’re going to squander such a prestigious opportunity for the sake of wallowing in self-hatred, is it any wonder that there are only three people in the entire institute who tolerate you?’ Martin had had to stop both her and Tim from marching directly to the bastards office and kicking his teeth in.

“Wood chipper!” Sasha agreed enthusiastically, snapping her fingers.

“Wood chipper…” Martin echoed under his breath, less enthusiastically and more bewildered.

“Anyways! Listen for yourself.” She pressed play, and almost immediately Jon’s hands flew up to cover his ears. Martin had started to as well, but stopped himself. Tim winced, leaning back from where he stood behind Jon’s chair.

Her voice could barely be heard over the screeching static, and even then, it was horrifically distorted. The words would get caught in a loop, or her voice would be doubled over, pitched up or down. All in all, Sasha was pretty sure she would have nightmares over the sound coming from her shitty laptop speakers.

“Right, okay we get it, the statement wont record can we please turn it off now?” Martin spoke over the painful audio, his hand twitching as if he was a moment away from turning it off himself. Sasha didn’t give him a chance, quickly pausing the recording. The office space was suffocatingly silent immediately after as no one spoke for a moment. Tim, of course, was the one to change that.

“Well alright then!” He clapped his hands together. “This is totally a spooky thing, right?” Jon let out a sharp sigh through his nose, but otherwise didn’t say anything. She caught Martin frowning at the still-healing scratch marks down the side of his face. He still wasn’t aware of the meltdowns, something Jon seemed pretty keen on maintaining.

“I mean, it could just be something weird about my laptop, but considering it seems to be _just_ this statement—and I did record other statements to test, all where fine—I think we may possibly be veering into spooky territory.” Jon gave another exasperated sigh before speaking up.

“Does text-to-speech work?” He seemed to be resisting the urge to fiddle with Sasha’s laptop. She barked a laugh, before pulling up her attempt to type the statement.

“I wouldn’t know, because trying to type it goes equally fucky!” Jon’s eyebrows scrunched together, mouthing the word ‘fucky.’ 

“You didn’t mention this before, Sash! This is _proper_ spooky!” Tim leaned over Jon’s shoulder, and interrupted the start of the responding sigh. “Yes, I said spooky, Jon. Spooky, spooky, spooky!” 

“It _is_ pretty weird, actually.” Martin spoke up, stepping past Sasha to get a better look at the screen. Jon pushed his chair back, scowl on his face.

“No, please, crowd around. Not like it’s _my_ desk or anything.” Sasha winced a little. 

“We can move to my office if that’s better?” She only got a low grumble in response, which meant Jon was just being dramatic rather than actually bothered. She took a moment to pride herself on her understanding of Jon-Speak.

“Are those even letters?” Martin asked incredulously, squinting at the screen. 

“Looks like a more terrifying and headache-inducing version of that Zalgo text thing. You know that thing?” Martin hummed a distracted little ‘uh-huh’, and made a move to mess with the keyboard. Sasha lunged forward, snatching her laptop up and holding it away.

“Not a good idea, Martin. Anyways, if you all could try to figure out a way to actually record these damn things, that would be _spectacular!_ ” She patted Martin’s arm, and strode back to her office to bang her head against her desk for a while.

⸻

Jon never knocked. It wasn’t something anyone mentioned, but they had all certainly noticed. It was part of the reason Sasha left her office door open. He always settled for calling through the door, and just leaving if there was no response rather than open it anyways. (Elias never answered when he called through the door, Sasha knew because Jon had awkwardly asked her and Tim to knock for him several times.) Sasha figured it was a result of some sort of trauma and left it at that. 

“Sasha.” He stood in the doorway, clutching something in his hand, fiddling with it. She could see Martin behind him. 

“Yes? Come in!” With the way Martin strode in past him, she figured Martin was just letting Jon do his Thing. It was nice they seemed to be getting along. He held out a cup toward her.

“I made you tea!” Jon watched the tea exchange, before turning his eyes in the vague direction of Sasha’s face.

“I think we found a way to record those statements.” He carefully set what she now identified as an old tape recorder in front of her. She picked it up to inspect it. It was scratched and dented, with what appeared to be a brand new tape inside. A peeling sticker along the back read ‘Property of the Magnus Institute.’ She turned it over in her hands a few times.

“Where did you find this?” Jon opened his mouth, and closed it again, looking at Martin.

“Oh!” Martin startled, “Uh, I found it behind a bunch of boxes in document storage! I was actually cleaning out cobwebs because Jon was refusing to go in there until someone did and—”

“ _Martin._ ”Jon snapped. Martin’s jaw clicked shut, and Jon had curled in on himself slightly. Sasha decided to come back to _that_ later.

“Uh, alright then! Why do you think a janky old tape recorder will work?” This time Martin was the one to look at Jon, who froze up. Sasha failed to hold in a sigh.

“Y—I wasn’t—Well, I didn’t do anything _wrong_ —” He started.

“I never said you did.” She set the recorder down gently.

“I just went through a few statements until I found one that refused to record properly, then when I recorded it on the tape recorder, it worked fine.” He squared his shoulders as if to say _‘See? Nothing wrong.’_ She couldn’t take it too seriously when he was over a foot shorter than the man standing next to him, but it was a good effort.

“How long were you doing this for, then?” Sasha could appreciate his attempt to maintain composure, but really, Jon’s face was an open book. Martin muttered something under his breath, rolling his eyes. Jon took a breath, taking several tries to defend himself before giving up.

“About 14 hours.” She resisted the urge to slap her face, and settled for rubbing her forehead.

“So all night?”

“Yes.” He had the decency to at least _look_ ashamed.

“And all day yesterday after I found the recorder.” Martin helpfully supplied. She could see her tombstone now. ‘ _Cause of death: secondhand overworking.’_ She let out a heavy sigh.

“Okay, Martin, take Jon home, please.” Jon took a breath. “Nope, no. Thank you, seriously, for figuring this out, but if you don’t go get some sleep I will be forced to take drastic measures and I care about you too much to do that.” His shoulders slumped and Sasha could see the exhaustion finally show itself. He made his way to the door.

“Oh! Wait!” Jon stopped in the doorway. “Is there anything important on the tape inside?” He shook his head. 

“No, just the tests I did of the other statement I found.” He stumbled out the door, followed quickly by Martin.

“Bye, Sasha!” He waved. She gave a little wave back, smiling. 

“Bye Martin.” She leaned forward. “Bye, Jon!” She called. She barely heard a half-hearted ‘Bye.’ Before Martin left. She settled back in her seat. Her desk was pretty messy, but it wasn’t hard to find the stubborn statement. She picked it up and tapped the pages on the table.

“Okay, then.” She cleared her throat, sat forward, and pressed record.

“Statement of Nathan Watts, regarding an encounter on Old Fishmarket Close, Edinburgh. Statement originally given on April 22nd, 2012. Sasha James, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, recording. Begin Statement.”


	2. Colony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Text from  
> Martin!:
> 
> Can’t come in today, have a bug.

Tim and Martin had already been assigned statements to follow up on. So really, she shouldn’t feel bad about giving this one to Jon. She couldn’t very well assign one of them two without him getting one, that wouldn’t be fair. Sure, she was beginning to suspect the guy had a bit of an issue with spiders, but this statement was about a  _ ghost  _ spider, surely he would find it more humorous than upsetting! Sasha paced her office a few times, overthinking the situation, before shaking her head.This was ridiculous. If handling this follow up was too much for him, Jon could just tell her, and Tim or Martin would understand.  _ ‘Except this is Jon we’re talking about. _ ’ She huffed a breath and strode out of her office door before she ended up convincing herself she was a terrible boss and even worse friend. 

“Jon!” She called, and watched as his head shot up, reminding her of a startled cat. The way he curled in his chair, his good leg up on the seat and his chin resting on his knee, added to the effect. She held the statement up and shook it. “Have something for you!” His hand reached out to take it, annoyance on his face. 

“You skipped me.” It didn’t take long for him to start flipping through the pages once he took the folder from her. Sasha nodded, though Jon clearly wasn’t paying attention.

“I sure did. You needed a break, overworking is illegal under my rule.” She expected some sort of non-commital grunt, or even a rant about how really he’s been working a perfectly normal amount, but there was nothing. Jon sat frozen, staring at the first page.  _ ‘Shit.’ _

“Uh, Jon?” His hands twitched, and he looked up at her.

“Wh—uh, it’s fine. I’ll uh, get started on the follow up.” He gently closed the folder, and set it far away from him.  _ ‘Shit.’ _

“You… okay?” Jon was nodding before she finished speaking.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” He managed to sound annoyed, but the defensive undertone and the way his fingers were twisting and tugging at his shoelace betrayed him. 

“It’s just, I know you have a thing about spiders—”

“ _ I don’t have a thing about spiders. _ I am  _ fine _ , Sasha.” Well, that was convincing. Martin, of course, chose that moment to approach, of course, with tea for Jon. His cheerful demeanor morphed to one of concern as he took in their expressions.

“Is everything all right?” He asked, preparing for Jon to snatch the mug from him. 

“Everything is fine, Martin. Sasha was just  _ finally  _ assigning me a statement to follow up on.” Jon held the mug under his face as he grumbled, the steam fogging his glasses up. Sasha put her hands on her hips.

“Well,  _ I _ was just telling Jon that if the spider statement bothers him, I’m sure you or Tim would understand if I need to assign it to either of you, instead.” Jon shot her a glare, glasses still a little fogged.

“And  _ I _ was telling Sasha that I am  _ fine _ and have no issue with a statement about a  _ ghost spider. _ ” Martin looked about as unconvinced as Sasha was.

“Are you sure? I would be happy to take it if it makes you uncomfortable.” Martin’s hand hovered over the statement. Jon slammed his mug a little too hard on his desk and whisked the folder way.

“How many times do I have to tell you people I’m fine?! Leave me alone!” Jon wasn’t one for shouting, but he sure got close sometimes. Sasha put her hands up in surrender.

“Okay, okay. You have fun with follow up, then.”  _ Shit,’ _ she thought as she sat back at her desk,  _ ‘I’m a terrible boss and worse friend.’  _ As she settled back in, her phone went off. She picked it up.

**_Martin!:_ **

**_I’ll talk to him, don’t worry! :)_ **

She let out a breath and rubbed her eyes for a moment, before getting back to work.

  
  


⸻

  
  


The next day found Martin to be late, and Jon anxiously checking his phone every few moments. 

“Any idea where Martin is, Jon?” The moment she asked, Jon checked his phone again, and gave a defeated sigh.

“No.” 

“Martin?” Tim chimed in, walking in at the same (late) time he did every day. “Oh, he texted me, said he’s sick. Got a stomach bug. I told him he should come into work anyways and get me sick so I can stay home, but he hates me too much, apparently.” Sasha couldn’t quite name the emotion on Jon’s face, but he sure looked like he was trying to hide how upset he was.

“He texted you?” He asked, voice almost timid. Sasha heard her own phone ding.

**_Martin!:_ **

**_Can’t come in today, have a bug._ **

“Oh! He just texted me. That sucks, hope he feels better, soon.” She heard Tim rustling around in his snack drawer he liked to claim was secret, and Jon checked his phone again.

“He text you, too?” Tim asked around a granola bar. Jon’s shoulders curled in as he dropped his phone on his desk.

“No.” She and Tim shared a Jon Look. Sasha opened her messages again.

**Me:**

**u should probly let jon kno ur ok, he seems worried abt u**

“Maybe he went to bed and forgot to hit send, or something!” Tim tried. He got a small hum in response. Sasha took a breath and held it for a moment, for trying for a subject change.

“How uh, how did follow up go for the Vittery statement?” Jon somehow managed to look even  _ more _ tense and upset. He fiddled with a stray rubber band.

“Um. Well uh, Martin sort of… took over that follow up, said he was going to go to the flat Carlos Vittery lived in. I-I told him it was fine, that I could do it, but he wouldn’t listen to me. Last I heard from him he said he was going to break in. He said he would text me once he got inside but, um. He didn’t.” He checked his phone again, clearly disappointed with what he didn’t see. Oh. Well no wonder he seemed on edge. Sasha unlocked her phone.

**Me:**

**hey?? not texting jon tht u were alright was a dick move blackwood wtf???**

Tim set a granola bar down on Jon’s desk, who took it absently.

“Maybe he couldn’t get in and forgot to let you know? Or he had to run from cops or something.” Tim suggested, plowing into another granola bar while Jon picked at his. Sasha put a hand on the back of Jon’s chair, giving it a bit of a shake.

“I guess I’ll ask Martin about it when he’s feeling better. Let me know if he says anything, yeah?” Another hum in response, and Sasha left to her office with a sigh.

  
  


⸻

  
  


A week passed of Martin being sick. He kept Tim and Sasha updated, but seemed to be ignoring Jon. Whatever his reasoning, Jon wasn’t handling it well. It didn't help he was already raw from Elias’ bullshit; the awful things he said to him, as well as completely disregarding his presence on the occasion the man came down to the basement. She and Tim had both let Martin know that, from their end, he was being a real ass, but he never acknowledged it. He seemed dead set on whatever shit he was pulling. Jon had gotten even quieter than he did after Elias, and he seemed to get worse each day. She didn’t say anything about the scratch marks down his cheek and along the backs of his hands, but she knew Tim was taking care of that.

Tim sat across from her, both of them picking at the chips they had ordered. Jon had gone home early for once, so it was just the two of them, feeling like shit. Tim took a long gulp of his drink.

“Maybe Jon said something rude by accident. You know how often he does that.” He offered. They had been coming up with theories on why Martin was acting the way he was all week.

“You know Martin, even when Jon was being rude to him on purpose, he was still nice to him.” Tim gave a murmur of agreement, and Sasha thought for a moment. “Maybe he realized he has a crush on Jon, and now he can’t bear to speak to him.” She took a sip of her own drink, and managed a chip. Tim nodded.

“That one fits, actually! Maybe he isn’t even really sick, maybe he just can’t be in the same room as Jon because he loves him so much, doesn’t know how to handle it.” It made the most sense out of all their theories, but Sasha really couldn’t imagine Martin doing something he knew would trigger Jon’s RSD so badly, even if he was consumed with overwhelming love for him. She opened her mouth to respond, but was interrupted by her phone ringing.

“Oh, it’s Jon.” She answered, bringing the phone to her ear as she took another drink.

_ “Sasha?” _ She set her drink down, sitting up. He sounded  _ terrified. _

“What’s wrong.” She stated more than asked, panic creeping into her tone. Tim gave her a worried, questioning look, leaning forward.

_ “I dont—I wasn’t—I just went to check on Martin, I don’t know, I don't know, I just—”  _ Sasha quickly put her phone on speaker for Tim to hear. They both hovered close.  _ “—and god, the whole building smelled like-like-like  _ rot _ , I saw—I had to go up the stairs and I just saw all these disgusting _ worms _ —” _

__ “Wait, Jon, you said worms?” Her mind was racing, flashes of statements and police records about Jane Prentiss, about people eaten from the inside out, carved away to make a home for squirming worms.

_ “—and I got to his floor and they were just covering the ground and I-I heard—there was this—I could hear this awful  _ knocking _ , over and over and over, and then I saw her just  _ standing _ there, with worms all over and coming out of her and I just—I didnt—she didn’t see me, didn’t know I was there, she didn't know I was there I don't think—”  _ She and Tim stood up simultaneously, Tim throwing down a wad of cash on the table as they hurried to the door.

“Okay, calm down Jon, we’re on our way. Where are you now, can you tell me?” She could hear Jon muttering to himself, trying to hold it together. It took him a moment to answer.

_ “It’s, um. There was a door. A, uh, an unlocked door I just—it was the closest one, didn’t even notice it at first. I keep—god, I can still hear her knocking, she was standing in front of Martin’s flat, just knocking over and over and over and I—oh, fuck,  _ fuck.. _.”  _ She heard shuffling, he may have been moving to sit down. Tim quickly hailed the first cab he saw.

“Okay, alright. Just stay where you are, okay? Tim and I are gonna be there soon, okay? Just stay there.” Tim held the door open for her, rattling off Martin’s address to the driver, telling them it was an emergency. Jon let out a shaky breath.

_ “Okay. Okay, okay, okay. I—Okay.”  _ She hung up, though not without reservations. She and Tim looked at each other with equally worried expressions.

“Do you—she stopped, glanced at the driver, and leaned in to speak quieter. “Do you think we should call the police?” Tim gave a scoff.

“And tell them what, exactly? That our friends' lives are being threatened by a worm lady? They would assume we were prank calling, or high off our asses!” He was probably right. She hissed through her teeth. This was  _ not  _ how she expected her night to go.

They were over halfway to Martin’s flat when her phone rang again, Jon’s name flashing on the screen. She picked up immediately.

“Jon? What’s going on?” She could hear his shaky breathing, like he was holding the phone a little too close.

_ “I—I think she’s leaving. The uh, the knocking stopped. It stopped. I can hear her moving past the door.” _ Okay, that was maybe good.

“Alright, are you still where you were before?” She pointedly ignored the driver glancing at her in the rearview mirror.

_ “Yes, I am. I haven’t moved, I've just-just been waiting.”  _ Tim leaned closer to the phone.

“Is there a fire escape or something you can get out of?” He asked. God, she hadn’t even thought of that.

_ “N-no, it’s—I think I’m in some sort of maintenance hallway. No windows or anything, no other door either that I can see. I don’t want to go wandering around.”  _ he paused for a long moment. _ “I-I don’t hear her anymore. I don’t hear the worms, either. I think it may all be gone.” _

“Okay, that’s good. Jon, just stay there, okay, we’re almost there.” She could see the building approaching.

_ “I—actually I think I’m going to go see if Martin is alright.” _ Immediately, she and Tim began loudly protesting, but Jon didn’t seem to hear them.  _ “I’ll call you once I get to his flat, promise.”  _ The call ended, he had hung up. Tim swore, hitting the back of the seat in front of him. The driver yelled at him, but neither of them paid him any mind. Sasha was already giving the man money for the ride, and the two of them flew out of the cab the moment it stopped.

There was no sight of worms or Jane Prentiss as they barged into the building, nor as they made their way up the stairs. They did, however, run into Jon and Martin as they got to Martin's floor. They both looked awful; Jon, a whirlwind of fluttering nerves, a hand tugging hard at his hair, and Martin, who clearly hadn’t slept much, or taken a shower within the week he was, apparently, trapped in his apartment by Prentiss. Martin didn’t hesitate to engulf Tim and Sasha into a hug, squeezing a little too tight for her back. She didn’t say anything, though, squeezing back just as tight.

  
  


\------

  
  


"-and then the knocking just… stopped, and I could hear her walking away, and that-that  _ squirming _ sound faded out." Martin was sat at Tim's kitchen table across from Sasha. Tim and Jon had left to go get food, since all Tim seemed to have was takeout leftovers. Martin had insisted on giving a statement, and Tim's flat was the closest place. Martin glanced around nervously, and Sasha gestured for him to continue.

"I-I thought I was imagining it at first, honestly. Then I heard Jon's voice through the door, and he was-he was trying to open it. For a moment I thought it was some sort of trick, to get me to come out. But there was no knocking, because Jon has that  _ thing _ about knocking, and-and I figured there was no way that some-some  _ worm  _ woman knew such a minor detail that most people don't even really notice.

"So I opened the door. I was—I mean I was  _ really _ hesitant about it, but then I was just unlocking it, and Jon burst in, somehow looking even more freaked out than I felt. There was a moment I thought maybe I was… dreaming? I don't know it was like, for just a second he looked a little blurry around the edges, and it was like I couldn't quite focus on him, but I guess I was a little delirious at that point. I mean, I was also  _ really _ happy to see him." Martin's face went soft, long enough for Sasha to think  _ 'oh, I see.'  _ Before his eyes widened, and he shook his hands wildly in front of him.

"I just—I would have been happy to see anyone! Really happy! To see you, or Tim, or-or anyone! It's just that Jon was the person I saw! And-and—"

"I totally get what you mean, Martin. Don't worry." She assured, resisting the temptation to text Tim under the table that he owed her. Martin let out a nervous laugh.

"Right, right. Anyways we got out of there, and then we ran into you and Tim at the stairs. God, I keep thinking about what would have happened if Jon hadn't come by. I mean how long could I have been stuck there? You all said she was texting you with my phone, how long could that have gone on?" Sasha sucked in a breath.

“Martin, you’re safe now, and that’s what matters. I can’t begin to understand what you just went through, but I  _ do _ know that agonizing over ‘what-ifs’ will only make these kinds of things harder to heal from.” She reached across the table, laying her hand over Martins, stilling the slight trembling in it. “I won't let  _ anything  _ like this happen again, okay? To any of you. It’s my job to keep you all safe, and I’m so,  _ so _ sorry I failed. I will make sure to do it properly from now on. I won’t fail any of you again, I promise.” She smiled as Martin turned his hand in hers, giving a small squeeze. He smiled back.

“It’s-it’s alright, Sasha. You shouldn’t put all this on yourself, we’ll all help keep each other safe.” He gave her an attempt at a stern look, likely trying to keep her from arguing. She didn’t get the chance to try anyways, as the sound of the front door opening interrupted her. Tim’s voice could be heard as he rambled about  _ something _ to Jon, before the two of them appeared in the kitchen, carrying an alarming amount of grocery bags. He stopped, changing the topic on a dime as Jon skirted around them to place the bags on the counter.

“Did you know apparently Jon can  _ cook? _ I think he’s lying and we’re all gonna end up dying of food poisoning but anyways he’s making food for all of us tonight, right Jon?” Tim whipped around to face Jon at the last part, and Jon’s eyes darted between the three of them.

“I, uh, yeah.” He went back to putting groceries up, and Tim put his own bags down to help. 

“So, anyways!” Tim began, nearly dropping a bottle of olive oil he threw into the air, ignoring Jon’s scrambling to snatch it from him, “I was thinking we all stay here tonight, then in the morning we figure out a game plan!” Sasha nodded.

“Yeah, that sounds good. There is  _ no _ way I’m going home tonight. I need to keep an eye on my boys!” She leaned forward to pat Martin's shoulder, and shot a smile towards the others. Tim gave a low whistle.

“Oh we’re your  _ boys _ now, are we? Careful, Sash, that could get very sexy  _ very _ fast.” Jon gave a disgusted scoff beside him, readying a few pans on Tim’s spotless stove.

“I’m gonna have to agree with Jon on that one, sorry Tim.” Martin chuckled. Tim let out a loud, dramatic sob, and clutched a bag of rice to his chest.

“What must I do to gain your affections, Mr. Blackwood? How do I win your heart?” He fell to his knees, shaking the rice out to Martin. Jon whacked him in the head with a wooden spoon.

“Maybe Martin would like you more if you actually helped me like you promised instead of using ingredients as props.” He took the bag from Tim, who rubbed the back of his head with a wounded look on his face. He dropped the act as Sasha and Martin laughed at him, and he stood with a pout. 

“Fine, fine, okay.” Tim took the spoon from Jon, and used it to point at him. “But I’m only doing this for Martin, not for you, you mean little man! Who hits people with wooden spoons, anyways?” Jon looked thoroughly unimpressed, and turned back to the stove without a word as Tim continued his rant.

Sasha watched Martin laugh along, as Tim joked around and Jon quietly threatened him. She swore to keep them safe. She promised. And Sasha always keeps her promises.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in the process of moving, sry for the long wait!! Comments are always appreciated!!!


	3. A Distortion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Statement of—"
> 
> "I'm not—this isn't a statement I'm just telling you as a-a-a friend, about uh, something that um, happened."

“Jon, I really think you should at least get some sleep first. I’m sure Martin would be happy to give up the cot in Document Storage for the night.” He was already shaking his head as she spoke, and she knew there would be no arguing with him. The last thing Sasha expected was for Jon to, one, be several hours late, and two, stumble into her office, with blood staining his shirt across his right shoulder and down his back. His cane was in the wrong hand, and Martin and Tim were right behind him, both trying to convince him to slow down. Now he was curled in her comfortable desk chair, swimming in one of Martin’s spare shirts. White bandages could be seen where the collar hung off of his narrow shoulders, and Tim had managed to find a ratty emergency sling in an ancient-looking first-aid kit. 

“No I, I just need—It-it feels hard to hold onto, like if I take too long it will all just-just... slip away, I—” He stopped himself with a harsh sigh, rubbing his free hand across his face. Sasha shifted where she sat on the edge of her desk, leaning forward as much as her back brace would allow to press her palms into her knees. 

"Right! Yeah, okay. Let me just—" she got up from where she was perched and walked around her desk to drag one of the guest seats to sit next to Jon. "Ok, then. Statement of—"

"I'm not—this isn't a  _ statement _ I'm just telling you as a-a-a friend, about uh, something that um, happened." He tugged at his hair, and Sasha fiddled with the running tape recorder on her desk. She didn't even realize she was saying it, and definitely didn't remember turning the recorder on. God, she was stressed. She was sure her hair would start to match Jons, soon. 

"Right, right, sorry. Habit. Go ahead, Jon. Whenever you're ready." She handed him one of her scrunchies, and after a few moments, he began.

"I uh, I didn't tell you everything that happened when I went to find Martin. Martin. I mean, I-I’m sorry, I didn’t really think to tell you, before, it sort of slipped my mind with everything going on. It-it seemed insignificant, so I didn’t mention it, and really, I should have but I just  _ forgot _ —” She cut him off, reaching for his hand, being sure to give him enough time to pull away. He didn’t. She untangled the scrunchie from his fingers to let the blood back into them.

“Jon, it's okay. No one is angry, or disappointed. I know the awful, manipulative bullshit Elias has pulled triggered something really severe and it’s been messing with your head, but I promise no one feels the same way as him. Just tell me what happened, okay?” His eyes briefly flicked to hers, and he let out a shaky breath with a nod. He twisted and untwisted the scrunchie around her fingers a few times.

“Right, right, okay. Okay, um. So, when I got off the phone with you to leave that hallway, the, uh, the door wouldn’t open. I tried it a few times, there wasn’t a lock or anything, but the handle just-it just wouldn’t turn. So I figured I would try looking for another door. I hadn’t seen any, when I first looked, but this time I saw one, just at the very end of the hallway. This bright yellow door, just like the one I came in through. Figured maybe the color was so people would notice it in emergencies. Anyways, I started walking towards the other door, but as I did, I realized that, while I could tell I was moving forward, the door wasn’t getting any closer. I don’t know why it took me so long to realize, but I must have been walking for five minutes before I did. 

“I kind of figured maybe I had fallen asleep while I was hiding from Prentiss, or something. Figured this was some sort of lucid dream. So I checked the time on my phone. That’s, uh, that’s a way to tell if you’re really asleep or not, checking the time. Or trying to read, or counting your fingers. Your brain can't really, um, figure that kind of intricate detail out, so it always comes out wrong. I-I used to have these, uh, false awakenings, as a teenager, I guess. I would wake up over and over, made it hard for me to tell what was real or not for a while. I read that trick somewhere, and, uh, it helped. I still do it, though the false awakenings don’t happen as often anymore.

“So anyways I checked the time, and it was the same time it was when I hung up. I knew that wasn’t right, but then I realized I could still read what was on my phone. I counted my fingers, and it was normal. I was a little hesitant to turn around, I thought the other door would be exactly the same. I did, though, and I ran right into the door. It was like I hadn’t moved at all. I tried to open it, and it did with no problem. I turned around to see if the other door was still there, but there was-there was this… person? Standing at the end of the hallway. He was really tall, maybe as tall as Martin. And it-it was odd, I shouldn’t have been able to make him out from that distance, but I could even tell he had two different colored eyes, but I couldn't tell you what the colors were. He had this-this blond hair that looked sort of seemed to move, like it was underwater. 

“He smiled at me, and I could make out that his, his mouth curled too much, at the corners. He waved, and-and, I don’t really know how to, uh, explain it, really? I could see he had a normal hand, but at the same time his fingertips brushed against the ceiling. Then the door closed behind me, and it was like it was never there. After that I went to Martins flat, he said it had only been a minute or so since Prentiss left, but I must have been in that hallway for half an hour. I thought—I figured that was it. I had some sort of-of-of  _ hallucination _ or something, some stress induced uh, thing. But, um, it-it wasn’t.” He paused, releasing Sasha’s hand to reach for the bottle of water she had pulled out from her desk drawer. His hand shook.

She looked at him, and for just a moment, maybe a second or two, she understood what Martin had meant, while recounting Jon's arrival at his flat. It wasn’t so much a fading-at-the-edges kind of blurry, it was more like footage from an old VHS tape, leaving a colorful, fuzzy outline, and a sort of afterimage as he moved. Then it faded away, and suddenly Sasha was blinking through an ache behind her eyes. She just barely managed to keep herself from jumping when Jon laced his fingers with hers again. 

“I started seeing him again on the bus. Not in-in person, though, I saw him in the reflections in the windows. I would see him, sat next to me, always looking at me. Looking me in the eyes through the reflection. He always looked… wrong. Distorted. His hands, especially, were just warped, and long, and-and he didn’t seem to have nails, his fingers just ended in a point. I always looked to see if he was really there. Then when he wasn’t there, I checked to see if I was dreaming. The uh, the false awakenings had started up again. Every time something seems wrong, I check. Or even if things seem normal. Just in case.” He checked the clock on the wall, then his eyes darted to the papers on her desk. He looked down, and she could tell he was counting her fingers. She gave his hand a soft squeeze.

“I uh, I never felt scared, though. It almost felt normal, like I expected it to happen. Maybe that’s why I never mentioned it. Then about a week ago, I saw him next to me in the reflection, and when I checked beside me, he was really there. I wasn’t scared then, either. He looked normal enough, at first. I still couldn’t tell what color his eyes were, and I felt this-this pressure in my head when I looked at him too long. I didn’t really know what to say, really. Eventually I managed to ask what he was doing, following me around, and he just laughed. It didn't sound right, like it was layered over at different volumes, or something. 

“He laughed like that for a while, longer than I thought the bus ride should have lasted, but when he was done it had only been a few seconds, I think. He said he liked watching me “double check reality,” then go about my day like nothing had happened. I uh, I asked him if he was going to kill me. He just said “I don’t know,” like he wasn't sure what kind of snack to buy at the store. Like… like he was still mulling it over. He said he wanted to keep talking to me, that he wanted to see if we could be friends. Then the bus stopped, and he left. Not-not out the bus door, though. There was—I saw him leave through the same yellow door I went in at Martin's building, right in the middle of the aisle. Then it was gone, and so was he. And I came here and I didn't say anything.

"He was there every day, then. He said his name was Michael—well, actually when I asked he said "You wouldn't normally give a name to something that doesn't quite exist, but I suppose you can call me Michael," which didn't make too much sense, but I mean, neither did the whole situation. He uh, he seemed… nice? Aside from the whole "obviously a monster" thing. I um, I asked him why he kept talking to me, and he said something about how he felt this odd desire to have a-a friend. That, uh, that he wasn't supposed to want that, and he wasn't supposed to like wanting that, but he did. And I—you-you know me, Sasha. I'm not really, uh, not really the most trusting person? People are too nice to me and I think they're up to something, I guess. But maybe since he wasn't, hm, he didn't seem to be trying too hard to be nice. He just seemed… confused, and a little awkward, and I don't know, I guess I could relate? That sounds awful, doesn't it? That I relate to some hallway demon, or whatever he is?" She really didn't know what to say. She always figured Jon to be the illogical skeptic type, the kind to brush off a ghost if it threw him down a flight of stairs, but here he was, talking about making friends with some sort of, what? Entity?

"I mean," she started, wracking her brain for an appropriate response, "I relate to a lot of movie monsters! Same proportions, you know? He uh, this Michael, he's not the one that hurt you, was he?" He gave a hint of a smile, which Sasha always counted as a win from Jon, but even more so, now.

"I was getting to that part. Yesterday morning, he seemed a little off. Which, I mean, he usually does, but this was different. He seemed like, like he was conflicted about something. I asked him what was wrong, and he laughed, and said "I'm not supposed to want to keep people safe." I just sort of… gave him a minute to clarify. I'm, um, not sure what to do when people are, when they're—"

"Expressing emotion beyond a general baseline?" She supplied. He rolled his eyes.

"Yes, sure. That. Anyways, he told me if I wanted us all to be safe, I needed to meet him at Hanwell Cemetery. That there was something there I needed to see." Sasha held a hand up to stop him.

"Wait, us? Keep  _ us  _ safe?" Jon nodded.

"Yeah, he called you all by name. Full names, actually." She rubbed a hand across her face with a loud groan. 

"I didn't-I didn't tell him, I swear I didn't! I don't know how he knew, he-he just did." He trailed off, eyes tracing nervously around her face.

"I know you wouldn't do that, Jon. That's not what I—I just—why didn't you  _ say _ anything yesterday? Someone should have gone with you, why would you not tell anyone and just go alone?" She tried to give his hand a squeeze, to let him know she wasn't  _ angry,  _ just  _ worried _ , but he wrenched his hands back from her.

"Well look what happened last time! Everyone finds out I have a-a  _ slight _ issue with spiders, and then you all act like I can't handle anything myself, and Martin ends up trapped in his flat for a week by Jane Prentiss. So I am sorry that I didn't say anything, but I wanted to prove that I can handle something on my own without everyone treating me like a  _ child! _ " His nails had begun digging into the back of his right hand. Sasha resisted the urge to gently pry them off, figuring it would only prove his point. She didn't want to get into an argument with him, and she knew if she said what she was thinking, one would start.

"Okay. We'll talk more about that later, okay? Just—so you went to the cemetery?" She watched as he released his grip on his hand, leaving behind angry red crescents torn into the skin.

"I—yes. After work last night, I went right there. He was waiting outside the gates, I have no idea how long he had been waiting. Could have been all day or a few seconds, knowing Michael. I asked him if we were going inside the cemetery and he laughed about how I "like to ask questions," then started walking down the road. At the end there was this old, abandoned building. No idea what it was before, maybe a restaurant or something, but it definitely hadn't seen business in a while. Of course, we were supposed to go  _ in  _ the very old safety hazard. I know following a known monster into a secluded building with no one knowing where I was was probably very stupid, but, I don't know why but… I guess I trusted Michael? Maybe it's because he seemed just as confused about wanting to be my friend as I was. I don't know, but I mean, I'm still alive, so must have been the right decision.

"It smelled horrible. It hit like a wall the moment I stepped inside. There was some sort of toolbox sitting on this worn down bar, with a fire extinguisher inside. The extinguisher was the first thing I grabbed when I heard that awful groaning. I figured CO2 to the face would probably be pretty disorienting to anyone, including whatever monster I thought was in there. Then I saw the worms on the floor, and I looked further into the room, and there was-there was a man, just slumped against the wall. It was just like Prentiss, the way the worms just… hollowed him out. Except he wasn't walking around. I-I think he was t-trying to cry? I, uh, I backed up, and my cane hit some crumpled beer can on the floor. 

"He-he—his head moved toward me, I think he would have been looking at me if his eye sockets hadn't been-hadn't been filled with worms. He tried to scream then, I could see it. It wasn't a scream though, I-I don't know what it was. The worms noticed me, too, and-and I didn't know worms could move that fast, and I tripped into the bar trying to back away. I dropped the extinguisher trying to catch myself. I-I looked at Michael, and he was holding it. I didn't see him pick it up, but he was holding it. Then  _ I  _ was holding it. I didn't question it, just pulled the pin out and started spraying the damn things. They started shrivelling up, then, dying on the spot. I managed to get my balance again, and I sprayed all of them, until the man was just this-this empty body. 

"I figured I should figure out who he was, so I checked for a wallet. Everything was bloody and covered in-in whatever else I refuse to think about, but his name was Timothy Hodge. I was looking through to find more information, when there was this sharp pain in my shoulder blade. Michael was standing behind me, and his fingers were like-like needles digging into my skin. They looked just like they did in the bus window. It hurt more than I think it should have. Then he pulled out one of those worms. I hadn't even noticed it, probably would never have if Michael hadn't been there. 

"Things got, um, a little confusing, for a moment. Timothy Hodge was gone. Michael offered to help me back to the Institute, and he opened that yellow door. I felt light-headed, probably from the CO2, so I followed him in. It was the same hallway I was in at Martins flat. I was in there for what felt like maybe ten minutes, following Michael, until he came to another door. Maybe it's the same door, actually, every time? Nevermind. He seemed to-to hesitate. He said "I don't usually let people out of my hallways, yet here I am releasing you for the second time." And he opened it. I walk through, and the door, and Michael, are both gone. And I'm in the Institute. And it's 11:24am, well over twelve hours since I went through that door. And now I'm here." They were both very silent for a long while.

"Do… do you think you'll see Michael again?" She tentatively asked. 

"I—y-yes, I do. He seemed happy to have a friend." She held back a sigh. Was Jon really going to befriend some door monster and  _ not _ expect her to worry?

"Right. Okay. You said it was a CO2 extinguisher that killed them?" He nodded. "Okay. Alright. Cool, cool. Potential worm solution!" She and Jon both jumped at the sudden knock on her office door, and watched as Tim and Martin entered. They each had two mugs of tea in their hands.

"Sorry!" Martin started, softly, gently pressing the tea into Jon's hands as Tim did the same to her, "We heard you talking, and figured it would be best to wait 'til you were done!" He hadn't quite managed to hide the tremor in his voice, but it was a valiant effort.

"Thanks, guys. Martin, why don't you help get Jon settled in that cot of yours?" Jon was already protesting, but she cut him off with a sharp look. "This isn't a discussion, Jon. Go. Get some rest." He nodded, and Martin took his tea from him, setting both mugs on the desk to help him stand. Tim made to follow them out the door, but she reached out to grab his wrist.

"Wait, Tim, can I talk to you?" He watched her for a moment, before giving a slight nod.

"Yeah, alright." He gently pulled himself free, and moved to close the door behind Martin and Jon. "What's up, Sash?" He leaned his hip against the edge of her desk, arms crossed.

"I… I need you to keep an eye on Jon." She knew what Jon had said, and she would talk to him about it, but for now… Tim chuckled.

"When do I not? If it weren't for me, I'm pretty sure that guy would have worked himself to death by now." His chuckled ground to a halt when he saw the look on her face. "Sasha, what did he get himself into?"

"Jon's made a friend, and it's some freaky door demon that's been following him around like some Pet Sematary puppy. You know he doesn't trust easily, but when he does it's unconditional. Just make sure he doesn't get hurt when I can't, okay?" There was so much more she wanted to say, but honestly, she was exhausted. 

"Well," Tim shrugged, "what does Jon's taste in friend's say about us, then?" She glared at him. He brought his hands up in surrender. "Kidding, kidding. Of course I'll make sure he doesnt get himself eaten by, what, an evil door? Whatever. C'mon, I'm driving you home. You look almost as tired as Jon does every day." He pulled her by the hands until she stood, and led her out the door. She could hear Martin and Jon, lightly arguing about something or other in Document Storage. She barely even noticed they had left the Institute until Tim started his car.

"What the hell is this job, Tim? One of my friends was held hostage by a lady chock full of worms, and now another has decided to be buddies with the Lord of Creepy Yellow Doors or whatever this "Michael" is. Is it too much to ask for you boys to stay put for five minutes?" She closed her eyes, leaning her head back against the seat.

"Honestly? Yeah, it is. Don't worry about it, though! I'll keep everyone in line!" 

"Great. You're all going to die." Tim slapped a hand over his chest with a gasp.

"Sasha! How could you?!" She laughed, and maybe it was a little hysterical, but Tim laughed right along with her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> spiral time :)
> 
> (no jon/michael theyre just buds now)
> 
> comments always appreciated!!!!


	4. Infestation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The worms in the wall were not as big of a surprise as they should have been.

The worms in the wall were not as big of a surprise as they should have been. She was more surprised by the stress ball Tim had chucked at her expecting she could catch it. She did her best, and would have caught it if she hadn’t tripped and fallen into the shelf, bringing it down. When she saw the first of the worms pouring through, she just slumped her shoulders and gave a loud sigh, but then the things kept coming. Then more, and more. By the time she had grabbed Tim’s hand and slammed her office door behind them, they had completely covered the floor. The two of them nearly ran right into Jon, who was startled into dropping whatever sickly sweet concoction that was his tea. 

"Sasha, what—" he began, but was interrupted by the sound of her office doors window shattering. She could hear the worms squirming through, the wet sound of them dropping to the floor. They were fast, and were quickly growing in number. They were also quickly blocking the exit.

"Shit! Shit, okay, Jon! You told Martin that Document Storage would be the safest place in case of worms, was that true?" His eyes flicked wildly between her and the growing mass of worms.

"Wh—I uh, y-yes, it-it's climate controlled, they wouldn't be able to get in." She grabbed his free wrist, ignoring his sound of protest. She could feel bad about not asking first when they're safe. Document Storage was just across the room, but she was genuinely afraid they wouldn't make it.

By the time they made it into the room, Jon had two worms digging into his bad leg, and Sasha had three in her back. 

"T-there's—Martin keeps a-a corkscrew under the cot!" Jon stuttered, slumping against the door beside Sasha. The things had managed to eat through the plastic of her back brace, and she struggled to undo the straps.

"Christ, Jon help me get this damn thing off!" His hands shook, but he managed better than she could, and she practically threw the brace across the room. She ran a hand down her spine, and could feel the ends of them still sticking out. It was just enough to grab and pull. She only managed two, and it hurt like hell, but it was satisfying to crush the bastards under her shoe.

"Okay, found the corkscrew, now what?" She appreciated Tim's attempts to maintain his composure. His voice barely shook.

"Help Jon first, I already got two of them out." He helped Jon gather the hem of his long skirt and pull it up, revealing two bleeding wounds just under his knee. It was like they had targeted what would slow them down the most. 

"Right, okay. Sasha I need some help, hold his leg still for me. Sorry, Jon." Jon sucked in a breath as Sasha pressed close to him, placing her hands on either side of his knee. Tim did the same as him, as he steadied the corkscrew.

It wasn't difficult to hold Jon's leg down, he wasn't very strong, even less so than she expected. It was a lot more difficult to keep holding on as he screamed. She bit down on her lip until a metallic taste coated her tongue, and Tim was muttering apology after apology under his breath. The whole procedure felt like it lasted much longer than it probably did, and Sasha could feel the remaining worm in her back digging its way deeper the entire time. Jon's eyes had just begun rolling back in his head when the second worm was pulled out, and Tim dropped the corkscrew to steady him.

"Hey, hey, we're done, see? All over, Jon." Tim said softly, his thumbs brushing softly across Jon's cheekbones and he gently cupped his face, a gesture Sasha would have found sweet were it not for the blood being smeared along with it. Jon gave a weak nod as his eyes regained focus. 

"Okay, we've gotta help Sasha now, you grab one of Martin's shirts or something, use it to stop the bleeding, okay?” Jon gave another nod, and Tim picked up the corkscrew again, making sure Jon was steady enough before letting him go and moving behind Sasha. She winced as he pulled the back of her shirt up, hand brushing against one of the circular wounds.

“Th-the one at the top is the one I couldn’t get,  _ fuck  _ I can still feel it…” She curled a fist in her skirt, her other hand reaching back to grip Tim’s leg. He gave her shoulder a squeeze, before she felt warm, bloody metal press against the wound and start to  _ twist. _

For a moment she swore she felt the corkscrew scrape against her spine, but she knew the worm wasn't close enough to it for that to happen. That didn't change the fact that it  _ hurt. _ Each twist pulled out another cry of pain, no matter how hard she tried to hold it back. She needed to keep it together, be strong for her friends who were scared and in pain. She hardly registered the worm being pulled out, only realizing it was over when Tim's concerned face appeared in front of her own, his bloody hands resting over her jaw and rubbing under her eyes, just as he had done for Jon. 

“Oh  _ fuck _ that hurt!” Jon handed her a strip of one of Martin's shirts he had cut with a pocket knife he, apparently, had on him. “Why the hell did I go back for the  _ stupid _ recorder?” She exclaimed, gesturing toward the different recorder lying on the cot. She hardly even remembered turning to find the one she knew was in her office, just as she hardly remembered pulling it out of her purse to record Martin’s statement about Prentiss, or pressing play the moment Jon showed up to tell her about Michael and Timothy Hodge. God, she even dropped the damn thing, and she tried to grab it again! It was her fault Jon had gotten hurt, and if Tim hadn’t pulled her away, they all would have been a lot worse off because of her.

“We can focus on that later, when we aren’t all trapped in a room, surrounded on all sides by evil, carnivorous worms. What  _ I _ want to know—” Tim whipped around to look at Jon, who grimaced as he tied another strip of fabric around his leg, “Is why the hell Martin has a corkscrew in here, and why  _ you  _ have a  _ knife!” _ Jon pushed his hair back with shaky hands, only for his hair to fall back in his face. Sasha handed him her spare scrunchie. He didn’t hesitate to begin pulling it back.

“I think, considering everything that’s happened, it’s entirely reasonable for me to have a pocket knife, honestly. And Martin said something about the corkscrew being better for removing worms, he—” Jon froze, then, eyes widening in horror. “ _ Shit, Martin. _ H-he went to go get lunch for everyone, he has no idea what’s happening!” Tim stood to watch out the glass window in the door, pulling out his phone.

“Okay, it’s fine, I’ll call him, tell him to—”

“There’s no signal in here, i-it’s the way the room is sealed, that’s why I told you to take us in here, it’s why I suggested it to Martin. The worms can't get in here." Jon gave a wince as he shifted, eyes darting around the corners as if checking to make sure he was right. She watched Tim just barely resist punching the door. They lapsed into a long silence, probably all contemplating the likelihood of their demise. Jon counted his fingers, then curled them in when he realized she had noticed. The two of them jumped at the sound of Tim's voice.

"Why  _ did _ you go back for the recorder, Sash?" It wasn't accusing, but she flinched all the same.

"I… I really don't know, honestly. I just felt like, like I  _ had _ to record this, like it had to be documented." Tim leaned, arms crossed, against the door. His eyes were focused out the window, but he gave a low hum to show he was listening.

"You don’t want to become a statement.” Jon supplied softly, hands rubbing at the red stains in his mustard yellow skirt. She realized with a pang that it was the one she gave him for his birthday. 

“Yeah, yeah, maybe. I just want people to know what happened to us, I guess. Not that I don’t think we’ll survive, but, you know. Just in case.” Jon nodded in understanding, but whatever he had been about to say was quickly drowned out by Tim’s shouting. 

“Wait, shit, shit! Martin’s here I see him!” He began banging frantically on the glass, rings tapping loudly against it. “Martin! Martin get over here, Martin!” She tried to get up, but gave up with a cry of pain. Jon managed to struggle to his feet, leaning heavily on his cane as he made his way toward the door.

“H-he can’t— _ shit _ —he can’t hear you, the room is soundproof!” Jon peeked out the window with Tim, and Sasha cursed as she failed to get up again.

“Oh god, she’s right there! He doesn’t see her, fuck, fuck! Get out of there, Martin!” Tim shouted, his voice ringing through the small room. Jon swore under his breath, before giving Tim as hard a shove as he could manage. It wasn’t much, but sent Tim stumbling back in shock, away from the door. He mumbled a quick apology, before wrenching the door open and limping out before Tim could recover enough to stop him.

“Martin!” He called, before the door closed again. Sasha just barely managed to stop Tim from going after him, reaching up to grip his hand and tug him back.

“Wait, Tim! I can’t have all three of you out there, please!” She just barely managed to reign in the  _ ‘please don’t leave me here alone.’ _ Tim gave a low growl of frustration, his head whipping between looking down at her and out the window, before his hand tightened around hers, and he leaned forward to watch anxiously out the window. 

“Tell me what’s happening, I need to know they’re okay.” She winced as she pulled herself back to lean against the door, head thumping against it. 

“Jon-Jon fell, but Martin helped him up, they’re—shit, shit!” His hand slammed against the door a few times.

“Tim, please!” His breath came out ragged, and it was a few moments before he spoke again, Sasha pleading with him to just  _ tell her. _

“They-they got separated, I don't—Prentiss was there and there were so many of those  _ things _ I just-just—fuck! I uh, Jon, I think he got out, he’s probably going to get help or something, and Martin ran to your office. The office all the  _ fucking _ worms came out of, god  _ damn it! _ ” He leaned his forehead against the glass, huffing out ragged breaths. Sasha tugged on his hand.

“Tim? Are they okay, did you see them get hurt?” She held her breath as he turned and slid down the door to sit next to her.

“I didn’t see any worms get them, but Martin went into your office, Sasha. He can’t be okay, He just  _ can’t. _ ” Sasha rubbed a thumb over the back of his hand.

“Jon told me that Martin hid CO2 in a few old casefile boxes. I’m sure he’ll be alright, Martin’s smart.” He gave a heavy sigh, before his eyebrows scrunched up.

“Wait,  _ Jon _ told you? Not Martin? Why didn’t Martin tell you he hid CO2 in your office?” Despite the situation, Sasha found herself letting out a small laugh.

“Apparently Martin was worried about the worms knowing where the CO2 was? I’m not too sure on the logic, but I don’t blame him. I think logic goes out the window in this scenario.” Tim laughed softly as well. They sat together, silent, Sasha wasn’t sure how long. Tim leaned his head on her shoulder.

“Hey, Sash?” She gave a hum. “Why did you decide to work here?” She tilted her head against his, and sucked air in through her teeth as she thought.

“I don’t really know, honestly. Maybe I just wanted proof that the supernatural existed. Even then, I really didn’t believe any of it until what happened to Martin.” Tim scoffed.

“What, that’s it? No desperate attempt to make peace with some horrifying, spooky experience?” She shifted, holding back a wince as the pain in her back twinged.

“Not that I know of, no. Well, I did have this totally weird teacher as a kid, I thought she was a substitute, but everyone insisted she was the same teacher we always had. I figured it was some prank, or something. She was  _ so _ mean to me, though! No idea why! Borderline traumatic, to be honest. Never trusted a teacher after that.” She frowned as Tim gave another scoff, slapping her leg with the back of his hand. 

“Are you kidding me, Sash?”

“What?” He sat up then, looking her in the eye, incredulous.

“Your teacher  _ clearly _ got like, replaced by an alien, or something, and the thing that took her place was pissed that you were the only one who noticed!” This time, it was Sasha’s turn to scoff.

“Tim—” He cut her off, waving a finger in her face.

“No, no, no Jon-level skeptic bullshit, missy! Your teacher totally got Joo Dee’d!”

“Joo Dee’d?” He flailed at her.

“Joo Dee, from—nevermind. Point is! You totally had a childhood supernatural experience!” She waved him away with a chuckle, and he settled back down next to her.

“Alright, sure, Tim. I totally had a childhood supernatural experience.” She gave him a moment to pump his fist in the air in victory. “What about you, then?” He froze, then, and Sasha realized very quickly that was the wrong thing to say.

“Wh-what do you mean?” He asked, clearly on edge.

“I was just wondering what brought you to the Institute, is all. You, uh, you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, Tim.” He twisted one of his rings around, the one on his right index finger that looked like a fox wrapped around it.

“No, no, I uh, it’s just sort of—” He paused, curling the ring up in his fist. “My brother died. And the thing that killed him was-it was—” He was cut off, then, by the sound of the fire alarm blaring. Their hands flew up to cover their ears in unison.

“Think that was Jon?” Tim shouted over the noise. Sasha nodded. He stood to peer out the window, frowning.

“What is it?” She managed, finally, to pull herself up, with Tim’s help. The window was absolutely covered in writhing worms, the office just barely visible through the gaps they occasionally left. Jane Prentiss was nowhere to be seen. Neither were Jon or Martin. She gagged at the sight. 

“Where the hell did she go?” Tim muttered, barely audible over the sound of the alarm. The sound of loud banging on the wall behind them seemed to be the response. Tim was quick to put himself between her and the wall. She was just as quick to push him aside to stand next to him.

“Jon said nothing could get in, right?” She asked, just as parts of the wall began to crumble.

“Did Jon leave that knife in here?” Tim asked, frantically looking around the room.

“Pretty sure he took it with him. Grab the corkscrew, it’s all we’ve got.” He scooped the bloody thing up, gripping it tight in the hand not holding Sasha up. The wall crumbled, and The two of them tensed.

“Oh, you’re okay! Is that my corkscrew?” Martin stood, panting heavily, and all 6 feet five inches of him covered in sweat and grime and wielding two CO2 canisters. Tim lowered the corkscrew.

“Martin, you’re alive?!” He cried, lurching forward to check him over. Sasha followed.

“Am I not supposed to be?” He tilted slightly, and Sasha noticed very quickly how unfocused and unsteady he seemed. She put a hand on his shoulder. 

“Are you feeling alright? What happened?” She asked, peering behind him through the hole he made.

“Oh, that's a long story, actually! I found the CO2 I hid in your office—by the way, I hid CO2 in your office—and there were just  _ so _ many worms! But this stuff kills them so fast! So I escaped through a hole in the wall! Not too sure what happened after that, but then I heard you and Tim shouting though this wall and now I’m here! I feel great, by the way! Come on, then!” He stumbled over the rubble he left behind, back into the tunnels, Tim wrapped an arm around Sasha’s shoulders, and the two of them did their best to follow.

“Hey, wait!” Tim called. Martin whipped back around, nearly falling over as he did. “Are the tunnels safe?” Martin waved a CO2 canister around.

“Pshhh, yeah, don’t worry! There’s not as many down here, they’re faster though, and  _ super _ sneaky! Here!” He tossed a canister he had hidden in his jacket to Tim, who fumbled trying to catch it with an  _ ‘oof.’  _ “None of them have gotten me yet, so as long as you’re quick on the draw, you should be fine!” As if in demonstration, Martin sprayed down a small group of worms she hadn’t even noticed approaching them. 

“Okay, then. Time to follow High Martin!” She tugged on Tim, who had been staring at Martin in shock. He shook himself dramatically, before wrapping an arm around her again, and they marched on.

⸻

Things got a little blurry, then. It didn’t take long for the effects of the CO2 to hit her and Tim. Martin had wandered off, and she was muttering into the tape recorder. Tim’s accuracy with the CO2 was quickly deteriorating, so the trapdoor seemed like a blessing, until the two of them really thought about it.

“What are the chances this goes right back into the archives and we die, like, instantly?” Tim slurred, poking the door with a large pole Sasha found and had been using to help her walk. 

“I’m gonna say like, 75%. Maybe 68% if there is a god.” Tim stared at her, trying to comprehend what she said, before shrugging. 

“Sounds good to me.” He lifted the pole.

“Archivist.” A voice croaked behind them. Tim's eyes went wide, and Sasha whipped around. The sight of Jane Prentiss up close alone was nearly enough to send Sasha to the floor. She looked to be more worm than woman, thin strands of flesh holding her together between the holes littering her body, nearly all of them spilling with the squirming creatures. Sasha stumbled back against Tim. Jane Prentiss took a teetering step forward. It reminded her, strangely, of her ball-jointed dolls; only moving because something inside was pulling everything along. Tim pulled her back, and began to push the trapdoor open. 

A cascade of worms fell on top of them. Sasha was vaguely aware of the sound of her and Tim screaming, of Prentiss screaming, before everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one was fun! esp high martin. next chapter is the end of part one! this story will continue, just as a second part so tags dont spoiler things! also bear with me, i wrote most of this on no sleep lmao.


	5. Human Remains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I just need to to make sure. I want my people safe. I promised I would keep them safe.”

Sasha was exhausted. Coming to surrounded by doctors in hazmat suits, having what felt like a hundred small, circular wounds cleaned and bandaged, and making sure her friends were okay, left her desperate for a 12 hour nap on her overstuffed couch. And yet, here she sat, arguing with Elias while sitting uncomfortably in her office desk chair. She just needed to know everything that happened, she couldn’t rest until she did. There was something she was missing, something she needed to  _ know. _

__ “Sasha, go home. You look like you're about to fall over.” She resisted the urge to roll her eyes, mostly because she was worried it would cause her vision to swim and she would teeter in her seat. Nothing was worse than proving Elias right.

“I’m fine, Elias. Once this is over, I’m going straight home. I just need to to make sure. I want my people safe. I promised I would keep them safe.” Elias gave a heavy sigh. 

“She’s gone, Sasha. I watched them burn her body, Jane Prentiss is  _ gone. _ ” She scoffed.

“Yeah, Prentiss is gone, but  _ Gertrude _ —” 

“Okay, okay. Fine. Just as long as you go home.” He held his hands up, placating. She let out a harsh breath through her nose.

“Good. Statement of Elias Bouchard, Head of the Magnus Institute, recorded from subject, regarding… Jane Prentiss and her infestation. Recorded 29th of July, 2016. Go ahead.” Elias shifted in his seat as he began.

“There isn’t much to say, honestly. I was going over some budgets in my office this afternoon, when the fire alarm started to go off. I wasn’t too worried, just packed my things and began heading toward the evacuation point, when Jon burst through the door, ranting about worms and some “Jane Prentiss” with a tape recorder in his hand. I could hardly understand what he was trying to say, kept repeating himself over and over.” Sasha tilted her head. 

“John was ranting? Wow, that doesn’t sound like him, he’s usually pretty level-headed.” She briefly worried that John had hit his head during his escape, but he seemed fine when she spoke to him after medics released her. Elias hummed. She swore she saw a brief smirk on his face, but it was gone too fast for her to really tell.

“No, that doesn’t sound like him, does it?” He chuckled softly. “Anyways, he told me he set off the fire alarm, and that you and Tim were trapped, that Martin was somewhere down there as well. He was terribly worried. I suggested he turn on the recorder, but I imagine that was lost, since you’re asking me all this.” She nodded.

“Yeah, John said he dropped it, or something.” Elias continued on, explaining how he lost John, how he found the boiler room, and how he heard the scream of Prentiss and her worms. It took some more arguing with him before he finally relented and told her about Gertrude. She hated that it was exactly what she wanted to hear. Gertrude had been murdered. Her desk had been covered in blood, more than a human could survive without. And Elias didn’t tell her. Didn’t tell  _ anyone. _ Had she and her assistants been in danger this whole time? They must have been. Whoever killed Gertrude was still out there, and no one knew why they had done it. 

She couldn’t trust Elias. Not after he withheld something so vital. Not when he acted like Gertrude's death was nothing more than a minor inconvenience. 

“Please tell Martin I want to talk to him when you leave, Elias.”

  
  


⸻

  
  


“I swear, I didn’t mean to leave you and Tim behind, I just—everything was so disorienting, and-and I just  _ lost _ you. It was an accident.” Sasha gripped Martin's hands in her own bandaged ones.

“Martin, it’s alright. No one blames you. Even without the gas, anyone could have gotten separated. Just tell me about Gertrude, okay?” He closed his eyes, drawing in a breath.

“When I realized that you and Tim were-were gone, I tried shouting for you, but the sound in those tunnels just doesn’t seem to go anywhere. I wandered around a while. I don’t know how much was the gas, but it’s just a maze down there. Nothing makes sense, and it just gets worse the further you go. I’m pretty sure it leads into Millbank Prison, like Tim mentioned. Had to go on miles. I just kept going, looking for a way out. I realized I hadn’t seen any worms for a while, and my head was clearing up. I figured I had gone too far from the Institute. I saw all these dead rats, and wine bottles, I swear it almost looked like someone was living down there—”

“Martin, you can tell me about all that after we get some sleep, okay? I just need to know about Gertrude right now.” She gave his hands a squeeze, holding back a wince at the pain lancing up her arms.

“Right, sorry. Um, anyways, I decided to head back, best I could. Then I heard the scream. It was awful, can’t really describe it. Then I started seeing all the dead worms, and I knew she was dead. I  _ really _ wanted out of there, then. I don’t know, I just started to feel trapped. Every turn led to a dead-end. When I found the door, I thought it would be a way out but instead it was… it was a small room. Cardboard boxes full of cassette tapes, and Gertrude. Sat right in the middle of the room in a wooden chair. There weren’t any worms in there. Just her, slumped over and all covered in old blood. So, I ran. Found the trapdoor soon after.” His face had gone a little green, fingers drumming against her desk. She rubbed her thumbs over his hands.

“Did you see how she died?” He was already shaking his head, but he still looked unsure.

“I-I don’t know, I mean it was dark and I was only there for a few minutes, could have been anything—”

“Martin, hey,” she interrupted, gently. “It’s important I know this, okay? Just think. Did you see how she died?” He was silent for a while, eyes squeezed shut as he thought.

“She-she was shot. Three times, in the chest. Can I go home now, Sasha?” He looked close to tears. Sasha released his hands with one last squeeze, and cupped his cheek with a soft pat, before leaning back in her chair.

“Of course. Get some rest, okay?” Martin nodded as he stood, but hesitated in the doorway.

“Hey, can you make sure Jon is okay? I know he had to deal with Elias, and that always shakes him up. You're the best with him, I think.” He said, tapping the doorframe. Sasha narrowed her eyes, perplexed.

“What do you mean? I know those two don’t always get along, but why would John be shaken up? And I would think  _ Tim _ would be the best with him, considering.” Martin stepped back fully into the room. He seemed just as confused by what he had said as she was.

“I-I don’t really know, I—that’s so weird, I could have sworn there was something… god, I must be more tired than I thought. Or maybe I'm still a little high.” He chuckled under his breath, scratching his head. “John’s always good at keeping his cool, isn't he? The Institute could blow up and he would take everyone for drinks after. Sorry about that, Sasha. I’m gonna go get some sleep.” Well, mark her down as worried. 

“Right, okay. Just, let me know when you get home safe, yeah?” They both let out a sigh. Martin nodded.

“Yeah. Take care of yourself, Sasha.” With a final tap to the door, Martin was gone, the running of the recorder the only sound in the room.

  
  


⸻

  
  


John’s distinctive knock on the door alerted Sasha to his presence, whipping her head up from where it had been resting on her forearms. He leaned into her office, a mug of tea held aloft.

“Brought you something!” He said as he waltzed into the room, as if he hadn’t spent the whole day being chased by worms. He gave her a sympathetic smile as he handed the mug to her, and pulled a chair around her desk to sit next to her. 

“Oh, thanks, John. I expected Martin to bring me some as well, but I imagine he’s exhausted.” She sighed into her mug. She could never tell who’s tea was best, but at least she always had the best. John crossed one long leg over the other, and rested his chin in his left hand, the diamond on his ring finger glinting slightly.

“Oh, he is, poor thing. Should have seen him when you and Tim were with the paramedics, I thought he was gonna make himself sick from how hard he was crying. He’ll be fine though, I’m sure.” He reached forward, patting her hand. “How are you, hun?” He still had that calming smile fixed on her, and she felt some of the tension ease in her shoulders. She let out a groan, leaning forward until her head fell on his hand resting on top of her own. John hummed, removing his hand from under her to rest over her hair,giving a gentle ruffle.

“That bad, huh? Do you want me to put some vodka in that tea? Don’t tell Bouchard but I may have some in my desk.” He whispered conspiratorially. She lifted her head to shoot him a playful glare. She knew he was absolutely telling the truth. She honestly debated it for a moment, before deciding it was probably best not to.

“Just… I feel like I’m missing something right in front of me. There’s this dread that something even more terrible happened and I can’t figure it out.” John tilted his head slightly, bringing his hand back down to hers.

“Is that why you’ve decided to keep everyone late, even after our little worm attack? Even though you look like you’re about to keel over any second?” She gave a wince and another loud, guilt groan in response.

“I just need to know the details! Get it all recorded so I can go over it later and find what I missed! I just wish you still had that tape you lost.” John clicked his tongue.

“Yeah… a real shame. But! I can tell you everything that happened! As an apology for being a total clutz.” He reached around her to grab the tape recorder, dropping in in front of her. It was already recording. She must have started it without realizing.

“Deal. Statement of Johnathan Sims, archive assistant at the Magnus Institute, recorded from subject, regarding Jane Prentiss and her infestation. Recorded 29th of July, 2016. Go ahead, John.” He nodded along with her.

“Ohh, an official  _ statement _ then, alright. Hmm, where to start? Well, I was with you and Tim until I went out to warn Martin and get some help. Big hero move, I know. So Martin and I got separated, and I ran to pull the fire alarm. Those nasty things were following me, and I figured it would be best to get the place evacuated. Not much then, went to find Elias, and he was his usual, smug dickish self. He was all “what’s the meaning of this, Jonathan?”” John made a valiant effort to morph his liverpool accent into anything remotely similar to Elias’. Sasha made a similarly valiant effort to not laugh. “Anyways, worms showed up and he found out what ‘the meaning of this’ was and we both went in different directions. I ended up in Artifact Storage, actually. “ Sasha pulled a face of disdain.

“Ugh, I would almost prefer the worms.” John laughed, waving her off as he became more and more animated.

“I know you hate that place, hun, but  _ I _ love it. All sorts of spooky odds-and-ends in there. Plus Cassandra—do you know Cassandra? New girl, absolutely adorable and the  _ biggest _ gossip. I would give her ten minutes before she started telling everyone—”

“So you found someone to enable you, got it. Focus?” she took a pointed sip of her tea.

“Right, right, sorry. So! I locked myself in there, and no worms followed me. I just sort of walked around reading labels and  _ totally _ not messing with anything, then the fire suppression thingy went off and I ran out to find a window. All the worms were shriveled up, like someone sucked the water right out. And that scream was probably the worst thing I had ever heard, right after that time some kid in my maths class tried to impress some girl and snapped his arm like a twig. The arm-breaking wasn’t to impress her he was trying to—nevermind, focus! 

“So, I went back to the Archives, and I found you and Tim, unconscious and just  _ chock-full _ of worms. So I—sorry that was totally insensitive, wasn’t it?” She waved away the guilty look on his face.

“No, no, you’re fine. I imagine it looked that way, didn’t it?” Her next sip of tea was a little harder to get down.

“Yeah… so anyways I pulled you both back to get more air, and, you know, pulling the worms out. Nearly threw up a few times, you know how squeamish I get. So then the fire people and doctors and guys in hazmat suits showed up and took you both away. Talked to me a bunch and checked me over, but I was fine. I had to wait with Bouchard, though, so, extra bummer. He kept looking at me weird, so I just kind of ignored him.” John released a heavy sigh. “Then Martin showed up shouting about a body, and it turned out to be Gertrude, and he found out about you and Tim and started crying, and yeah. That’s it.” He watched her expectantly, reminding her almost of a puppy waiting for a treat after learning a new trick. 

“Okay, well! Thanks, John. I just need to get Tim’s statement, and we can all go home and get some rest.”

  
  


⸻

  
  


The bandages were stark against Tim's skin, and it made her glad she hadn't looked in a mirror yet. A few spots of blood had already begun seeping through in some places. The wince Tim gave her when he first walked in told her she probably wasn’t any better off. 

“I promise I don’t need much, Tim. You were with me most of the time. I just need anything you think I may have missed, alright?” He nodded, wearily.

“Yeah, okay. Do you have to do the whole “Statement of Joe Spooky, regarding sinister happenings in the downtown old blah blah blah..." thing?” He weakly waved his arms around. She chuckled.

“I mean, I don’t  _ have _ to, but I do love consistency.” She gestured toward the tape recorder. “Unless you mind, like, genuinely.”

“No, it’s fine. Do your little  _ thing. _ I’ll only resent you a little bit.” That was permission enough. She did her ‘little thing.’ Tim took a few moments when she was done, thinking.

“I’m trying to think of what you don’t know about. Do you remember everything from the tunnels? You were pretty out of it.” She shook her head.

“All I really remember is Martin wandering off, and finding the trapdoor. And, you know. Jane.” They both shuddered.

“Right. So, we got pretty lost. I had to set you down for a moment to clear some worms up ahead, like I said, you were  _ really _ out of it. As I was going forward, I noticed this room, off to the side. There were  _ tons _ of worms in there. They were all… it was like they were wrapping around each other, forming a ring, or something. Like those rings people build with sticks, or rocks, or whatever. A ring. I was just barely better than you, really, probably hallucinated everything, but I swear it looked like some doorway, like a portal.” 

“A portal? Is it still down there?” Tim shook his head with a disgusted scoff.

“No. pumped a couple extinguishers into the whole room and it started crumbling. Then I went back to get you, and then I found the trapdoor. You know the rest. Probably wasn’t worth your ‘statement’ spiel.” Sasha sighed softly.

“No, that was good, Tim. Thank you.” They were both silent, staring down at the running tape. Tim leaned forward with a grimace and turned it off.

“Are you alright, Sash? I’m worried about you.” She gave another sigh, sliding a hand down her face, her fingers catching on bandages and coming away tinged red.

“I think… I don’t know, Tim. Something’s wrong, something else  _ big _ . It’s like I have this thing in my head telling me there's something so much worse happening underneath this. And I can’t help but feel like the person that killed Gertrude is someone who works at the Institute.” Tim stared at her, long enough for her to figure he thought she was crazy.

“We should do like, our own investigation, or something. I trust you, Sash. If you say something big is going down, and that Gertrude's murderer is at the Institute, I’m with you all the way.” She blamed the exhaustion for the tears she felt welling up.

“R-right, yeah. I um, I was actually thinking we could start by looking around those tunnels, or something? After we heal up, and all that. If that’s okay?” Tim cringed, but nodded.

“Yeah, that’s smart. I mean, Martin  _ did _ find her body down there. And maybe we can find out what that ‘possibly a hallucination’ portal thing was.” He pulled out his phone, and tapped on it for a bit. Sasha’s phone dinged. She unlocked it.

**_Tim has invited you to a group chat!_ **

“I’ll add John and Martin when we tell them about our investigation, yeah?” She nodded.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll tell Martin tomorrow, you can let John know whenever.” She put her phone down. “Speaking of, you should probably get out of here, don’t want to make him wait too long.” Tim groaned, and his head thunked on her desk, before he flinched and pulled back, rubbing the bandage across his forehead.

“Oh god, John is going to mother me to death. Finish Jane’s job for her.” Tim did his best to sink into his seat. Sasha laughed.

“Well, then you shouldn’t have asked him to marry you. You did this to yourself.” They both pulled themselves from their seats, painfully. Sasha followed him out the door, turning out the lights. John was on them in an instant, worrying over the staining bandaged on Tim’s face.

“Oh, we’re gonna have to change those the second we get home. Thank god the paramedic gave me extra!” He pressed a soft kiss to his lips, which Tim happily returned. The three of them walked together out of the building, Jon chatting away to fill the space. They finally parted ways at the steps. Sasha gave John a hug.

“Be sure to take extra good care of him, I’m sure he’ll hate it.” John laughed, while Tim groaned.

“What kind of fiance would I be if I didn’t?” He replied letting her go after a quick squeeze. She watched them walk away, hand in hand. God, she couldn’t wait for the wedding. Whenever they decided to have it. Finally, she turned around, and made her way home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaaand thats the end of part 1! please dont hate me too much for what i did to jon and tim.  
> (pssst... this is a no one dies au........ but sometimes............ thats worse)
> 
> also i did an art! Please reblog im desperate for validation  
> https://void-spirals.tumblr.com/post/620568636637282304/lineup-for-part-1-of-my-archivist-sasha-au-in

**Author's Note:**

> Oh boy. Had been thinking abt writing this one for a while now. This'll get rather fun I think as we go. This fic will be part one of my full Arcivist Sasha series!


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